He Thought
by CHAILYN
Summary: Ash is a genius. Geniuses don't get killed by idiot demons.


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He Thought

_Summary: Ash is a genius. Geniuses don't get killed by idiot demons. _

_A/N: Took me a while to figure out how I wanted to go about doing an Ash fic. maybe to be continued...maybe not. its open._**

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He was a genius. And geniuses don't do stupid things; they sure as hell don't let themselves be killed by demons.

He'd gone into hiding like a lot of people. More hunters than you could have possibly imagined, had accepted the inevitable, and realized it was over. They were never going to win.

He knew they weren't going to give up. They were Winchesters, and fighting was what they knew to their innermost core, and they'd keep fighting until it killed them—it was all they had to live for, right? That was the only way he could figure to rationalize the way they were playing Russian roulette with their lives. Actually, Russian roulette was probably safer than what they were playing with these demons.

At least they had each other. And Ellen and Jo. They'd stay in it until the end though, and even though—as sure as a sea of greasy mullets at a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert—Ellen would try to push Jo into laying low, but she'd never succeed. As much as the younger Harvelle hated the Winchesters—and did she ever, it wasn't like Jo was the kind of girl to fume in silence—she'd almost definitely go down fighting the same war as them.

He watched reports, newspapers, newscasts—all of it carefully. Even though he was in hiding he wasn't ignorant of what happened, what was happening. He was a genius, and he worked in science, facts, but sometimes when it came to the supernatural—science and facts flew right out through the window and even though it was a slim chance—he was still holding out for that slim, he figured it calculated out to about a .05 chance, that they could win this bitch. And if not, he wanted to know first hand when his friends died.

Then one morning he caught an article that changed everything that was, everything that is, and everything that could be the war on the demons.

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In the eight months since he'd "died", he hadn't just followed the _New York Times_, _CNN, _conventional kinds of news. As a matter of fact, he grossly ignored them. But when girls' not covering up their unmentionables makes front page news on one of the biggest papers in the country, he decided to take a look; he was only human after all.

He didn't need newspapers for the kind of information he was looking for, just his computer. He'd created a database for the paranormal; a request for Ellen and in the time since he'd gone into hiding he'd rebuilt it quite nicely. How nicely?

He knew about all the dead kids that were like Sam.

He knew Sam didn't win.

He knew more importantly, that Sam died.

He knew that the crown prince—the winner—tried to open the gate to hell.

He knew that Sam Winchester shot his highness point blank with his .38.

He knew it, he knew things real good. He didn't need anyone to walk him through the way hell on earth was about to come out, he was a frickin' genius.

Another thing he knew: The psychic kids, they were good. Damn good. They could do things that put a hell of a lot of demons to shame, but none of them, not even one with the advantages of a Winchester, were impervious to death.

There was another thing that none of the other psychic kids had, that answered Sam's little reincarnation trick for him. Dean Winchester.

Now, Ash couldn't say there was any scientific or mathematical formula to it all, but if what he was learning was right…Dean Winchester just might end up saving human kind. As long as he didn't do the quintessential Winchester thing and fuck it all right to hell.

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So, he never in a million years would have thought that a handful of girl eager to show off their pussy would lead him to the last piece of the puzzle that he'd made himself.

But the world had changed; skanks and celebrity had-beens were making the cover of the _Times, _Demons were taking over, gas cost more than a bottle of Jack, but some things stayed the same.

Ash got a little bit of solace in the fact that murderers were still going to jail, and people were still killing people.

Same story he'd caught a glimpse of on CNN on a drunk night with Diamond Starshine. Guy in the City gets his throat slit very jack the ripper-esque, the fascinating twist was that everyone saw it happen in broad daylight in a happy little strip club on the West Side, pretty little blonde girl. Turned out someone didn't take too well to it…slit her throat right back.

The killer, a kind of young guy, the guy's brother, was being held in a New York jail, waiting to tried by the state for her brutal murder.

Yeah, the Winchesters fucked it all to hell. Just as he thought they would.

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End file.
